


stars look pretty against pale skin

by 7daysoftorture



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Danny didn't like his freckles, Read at your own discretion, also they glow, and now he does, dumb ficlet, freckled!Danny, i support this headcanon 100 percent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6353857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7daysoftorture/pseuds/7daysoftorture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he had wondered how the feature he liked the least about himself could resemble the stars he loved so much</p>
            </blockquote>





	stars look pretty against pale skin

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry this is so rushed and weird, I just really love this headcanon and wanted to write something about it
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom nor any of the characters mentioned on this fic.

Danny's room is dark when he phases through the window and steps onto the blue carpet at the foot of his bed. At first glance nothing looks out of place but he gives himself a moment to do a more thorough check just to be sure (he's taken to doing that over the years after one too many unpleasant surprises). His body along with the moon outside his window and the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling (the ones he made his parents put up when he was 5 and still dreaming of touching the night sky with his own fingertips) are the only things illuminating the room because Danny, knowing his parents would be able to see the light coming from under the door and not wanting to answer any questions about why he’s still up and about at 3am on a school night, rarely turns the lights on when he comes back from night patrols. The little light he has now will have to be enough for him when he transforms back and doesn’t have the aid of his ghost self’s night vision anymore.

(but before he can transform back he has to deal with a little problem he brought back with him)

There's ectoplasm running down his left arm, from a still open wound on his shoulder, and it's dripping onto the carpet. Danny doesn't know if ectoplasm stains (although Sam probably does) but he's not too keen on finding out so he quickly bends down and phases his right hand through the carpet, scooping it up. He heads to the bathroom, phasing silently through the walls in the hallway with a practiced ease that comes from years of doing it, and opens the tap, washing his hands until he can clearly see the white of his gloves and letting the water run until he's sure there isn't a speck of green left in the sink.

His shoulder's mostly numb now, having stopped stinging almost half an hour ago, and he'd be worried about it if he didn't know it'll be healed in another hour or so (even if he doesn't patch it up). Sam knows this too, Danny told both her and Tucker the moment he found out he could heal faster than he remembered ever being able to, but she always insists on dressing up his wounds. Maybe she doesn't like the sight of them, or maybe it's her way of pretending Danny isn't that different from them _(“you’re still human, you know that, right?”)_ , either way, Danny always lets her do it, if not for his sake then for hers.

(Sam isn't here though, so he just leaves it as it is and hopes the ectoplasm will start coagulating soon, because if there’s one thing he hates it’s waking up with blood stains on his sheets and pillow from wounds that didn’t heal fast enough in his ghost form.)

Danny phases the leftover water in his hands through and watches as it swirls down the drain, the gurgling noise loud against the silence of the night. He ends up spacing out for longer than he intends to, staring down at the bottom of the white sink with unfocused eyes, and startles back into reality when he feels his feet start lifting up from the bathroom's tiled floor.

Even Danny can recognize the difference between tired and drained and one look in the mirror tells him exactly which one he is. The shadows under his eyes are more prominent than ever while his white hair is, in contrast, as bright as always (almost too bright for Danny’s bleary eyes). His lips are chapped and pale, though the latter isn’t an unusual occurrence so much as a simple observation of his appearance, he’s a ghost _(“only half, you’re only half-ghost Danny, don’t forget that”)_ after all. Then there're his freckles, scattered across his face and glowing like little green stars. Danny remembers the first time he saw himself, his ghost self, and how he had wondered how the feature he liked the least about himself _(“still walking around with that dirt on your face Fenton?”)_ could resemble the stars he loved so much. He lifts a hand up to his face and traces patterns over his nose and cheeks, from one freckle to another, thinking about which constellations they look like the most.

He’s exhausted but his mind feels restless, Jazz would call it anxiety but Danny knows better, this is something different and maybe a little worse. There’s a clawing feeling in his chest urging him to destroy something and even though he’s already used to it, has been fighting it down for years now, it’s a little harder to ignore when he feels like he’s holding himself up by force of will only. Instead of focusing on it, Danny thinks about how much he has gained from the accident (while absentmindedly keeping his hand moving over his glowing face): He has power, he can protect the people he loves and even strangers, this is something he never thought he'd have before, _the power to protect_ (he doesn't allow himself to think about all the things he's lost in order to do just that and the ugly feeling in his chest doesn’t spread).

His parents still don’t know, _he traces a constellation_ , most of the people he saves on a daily basis have no idea at all, _if he shakes his head from side to side his freckles leave the same trails of green light his eyes do_ , but Danny’s fine with that because it’s his fault the ghosts are coming through, _there’s a freckle right at the edge of his left eye that shines a little brighter than the others,_ and in the end it’s his duty to protect the people of his town with the powers he’s gained at the cost of putting them all in danger. Is it selfish that he’s doing it partly because he’d feel guilty if he didn’t or does the fact that he’d feel guilty about it prove he cares and isn’t selfish? Danny’s too spent to think philosophy right now and his eyes are starting to sting from both his weariness and his lack of blinking. The white noise in his ears allows him to stay there staring at his reflection in the mirror, white gloved finger tracing constellations on his face, until his arm starts to ache and his eyes feel so heavy he can barely keep them open.

When he phases through the bathroom wall and flies back to his room, almost an hour later, he’s dimly aware of his surroundings and almost forgets to make himself intangible. He rubs his eyes once and checks his shoulder to make sure his wound is closed enough he won't spill blood on anything. By the time he transforms back and slips under the sheets he’s already half asleep and as soon as his head hits the pillow he’s out like a light.

The following day Jazz kisses him good morning right over the freckle that glows the brightest and Danny, who woke up (after a nightmare free night) to a lack of dark shadows under his eyes, can’t help but feel a little more hopeful than usual.

 


End file.
